Domestic Encounters
by Virtuella
Summary: On a quiet morning in Netherfield, Elizabeth is at a loose end and goes exploring.


Domestic encounters

_Written for the Cabbages & King's Story Challenge 1: RedBottom Girls, You Made A Bad Boy Outta Me. __Dedicated to Lord Kelvin and his Rat Button._

_Not to be taken too seriously!_

* * *

It wasn't the cock that woke Elizabeth that morning. Unlike at Longbourn, the Netherfield home farm was set far enough from the house so as not to be heard there. Instead, Netherfield Park was surrounded by lush lawns on which stood beautiful old trees; beech, hazel and rowan. Hence it was the singing of tits and finches that Elizabeth heard on awakening, even though summer was well and truly over.

It was still early, an hour at least before breakfast. Elizabeth felt no inclination to idle away the time in a state of undress until Miss Bingley would see it fit to send her a maid. She swiftly dressed herself and left her room. Her first concern was for Jane, but a brief glance through the door revealed her sister peacefully stretched out on the bed in deepest slumber.

With time on her hands and nothing to do, Elizabeth began to wander along the corridor. An unexpected desire entered her mind. She had never before been a guest in any house as grand as this, and she felt curious to see the workings of such a household. Light-footed, she slipped down the back stair into the servant's quarters. The air smelled differently here, full of the things that were stored and carried about here every day, wood, potatoes, laundry, vinegar, candle wax… Elizabeth ducked into a doorway so she wouldn't be seen by a passing footman. When she continued her explorations, her eyes found the open door of the kitchen where the cook was preparing a chicken. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of the naked skin of the bird and shuddered. She preferred her fowl well roasted.

Many servants were busy working at this hour, yet Elizabeth somehow managed to remain unobserved while she was observing. Everything seemed well ordered, neat and efficient. With a sigh, she thought of Longbourn, where the kitchen was ruled by Mrs Hill's fat cat. Elizabeth suspected that the housekeeper poured more cream into the pussy than into the dishes served at table. Caroline Bingley, no doubt, sneered at Mrs Bennet's inability to keep her servants in order. Of course, it was easier to keep house where money was of little concern. The previous evening at dinner, Elizabeth had been surprised by the casual way in which Mr Bingley had settled that the shortness of decent servants' rooms could only be remedied by the erection of an additional wing.

As Elizabeth watched the scullery maids scurrying away with trays full of dirty pots, her thoughts drifted, she knew not how, to Mr Darcy. Mr Darcy, who had insulted her so nonchalantly at the Meryton assembly, had been more civil to her since she came to Netherfield, though he continued to be reserved and aloof to a degree that she could not approve of. She reflected briefly whether this defect of character was the result of birth or of upbringing and decided on the former. To reach such a state of arrogant pride as she saw in Mr Darcy, she guessed it would take decades rather than years of conceited education, nothing that could be attained at an early age, and yet she felt certain that he was already thoroughly infused with haughtiness by the time he reached manhood. She was fully convinced of his hardness of heart.

Her thoughts were distracted when she saw one of the footmen climbing up the stair with a black velvet sack. It seemed heavy and looked as if it held round objects, apples perhaps, though the receptacle would have been unusually fine for such a common fruit. Her curiosity piqued, Elizabeth noiselessly followed him. He went through the hall and into the billiard room, where he opened the sack and emptied his balls onto the billiard table. The clonking of the ivory spheres sparked a new thought in Elizabeth's mind and she began to imagine herself and all her family and acquaintances careening through life like these balls, bumping and grinding into each other, changing directions, sinking into the hole when -

"And who have we here," the footman ejaculated suddenly, "a little layabout?"

He seized her arm and took her from behind the fire screen, where she had hoped to escape his notice, into the full light of the window.

"Oh, I am very sorry, Miss," he spluttered when he saw that he had not caught a neglectful parlour maid, but a genteel house guest. "I beg your pardon a thousand times -"

"Pray, do not trouble yourself," said Elizabeth quickly. "I could not possibly stay here long enough to listen to a thousand apologies."

And with this, she hurried out of the room and sought the safety of her own before any further untoward encounters exposed her before her hosts. She sat down and began to order her hair, and while she was thus occupied, her musings returned to their previous subject. She had to admit that Mr Darcy was indeed handsome, rich and from a very good family, furthermore he possessed good understanding and a good education. Miss Bingely had made a point of telling her that he had graduated from Cambridge _summa cum laude._ Perhaps his pride was less feebly founded than that of other people she had known.

When she tried to see herself from Mr Darcy's perspective, she couldn't deny that he might have reason to feel superior to her. Considering his assets, she felt obliged to breast the full extent of her family's many flaws. Her father, she knew this painfully well, was remiss in his duties as the head of the family, and her mother's folly jeopardized what little respectability she had ever possessed. Her sisters… Here she sighed again. Mary might be considered wet behind the ears in many ways, but her wetness had a scholarly turn that robbed it of any innocent charm it might have otherwise possessed. At least she was not quite as inane as her two younger sisters. There had been moments where Elizabeth had thought that the only thing Kitty and Lydia could credibly do in public would be to perform as the ox and ass in a nativity display. They were as voracious for shallow entertainment as a newborn infant for the mother's nipple.

But Jane, Jane surely was above any reproach! Jane was the perfect paragon of her sex, elegant and graceful, kind and considerate, prudent, sweet-tempered and generous. There could be no doubt about either her propriety or her understanding. Mr Darcy could not find fault with Jane, and Mr Bingley certainly didn't. And –

With a smash, Elizabeth banged the hairbrush on the dressing table to drown out the thought that what really mattered to her more than anything else was that Mr Darcy shouldn't find fault with herself.


End file.
